


A sibling is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost

by HufflepuffleMarauder



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, One Shot, Protective Tina Goldstein, Sibling Love, Theseus Centric, Theseus is too pure, Tina centric, Tina is a cinnamon roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 21:20:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18290450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HufflepuffleMarauder/pseuds/HufflepuffleMarauder
Summary: Two unconnected one-shots about the Scamander and Goldstein siblings._"Do you want a hug?""No."Theseus embraced him anyway, revelling in how lovely and comforting a hug could be. Newt sniffled into his shoulder and protested a little bit, but Theseus didn't loosen his grip._Tina didn't back down from her piercing stare, wondering as to how those eyes could go from being so soft to so sharp in a matter of seconds. "Because I'm her sister, and I'm Porpentina Goldstein." She declared, straightening and hoping she was putting on the image of confidence she'd practiced in the mirror that morning.





	1. "You were meant to be watching him!"

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this one-shot from a random dialogue generator, which generated the title for this chapter.
> 
> For this one-shot Thesues is 11 and Newt is 7.

Theseus thumbed through the last pages of the old book he'd been forcing himself to read for the last four weeks. It hadn't appeared too big when he climbed to the top of the shelf to take it down. Picking it up he'd started to regret making his resolution with himself when he almost toppled over from the weight of it. The pages were also a lot thinner than anticipated and the font extremely small, stretching the estimated week to finish the damned book into most of July. Still, he carried it proudly with him everywhere his feet took him. Admittedly, he wasn't able to walk with the weight for longer than about fifteen steps before taking a break to let his tiny limbs recover ("No mum I'm not cute!"). But the absolutely boring and very grownup title along with the complex and utterly boring vocabulary had impressed Newt beyond childlike wonder. His bright green eyes followed Theseus taking his fifteen steps across the living room from his sitting place in the corner, animal picture book falling slightly from his grip.

  
At six, Newt barely talked and most of their conversations were heavily one-sided. But Theseus managed to content himself by reading to him and giving (unwanted) warm hugs. Theseus was the perfect older brother and he knew he needed to convince everyone that was true. Receiving his Hogwarts letter in March had done wonders to his image of not being a child anymore.  He'd opened it with a grin, brandishing his accomplishment to his parents and letting Newt read it over breakfast.

  
"I'm eleven now," He boasted proudly while spreading butter over his toast. "that means I can take care of Newt while you're gone." He grinned over at Newt who gave him a blank look while nibbling on Theseus' forgotten apple.

  
His parents had thought he was joking at first, but in the next few months it became more aware to them that Theseus was very determined to show them how grownup he was. Each day Theseus would ask persistently if "Can I tuck Newt into bed?" and maybe if he could "Read Newt a story?". Newt was his favourite thing in the world since he came out of the womb and Theseus took on the responsibility as an older brother with grace. If Newt looked up to him, then he had to be the perfect image of the English gentlemen he read about in fairy tales.  
He picked up the book and started dragging it downstairs to the library. He climbed the shelf with a huge amount of effort and placed it back into it's original position. But his climb down was interrupted  by a loud sob.

  
_Oh no_. "Newt? Newt!" Theseus called, feeling the panic start to set in. _You're first time looking after him and you've buggered up!_ "Newt!" He yelled, running outside with a million different scenarios running through his mind.

  
The crying was getting louder now.

  
Theseus' older brother instinct kicked in and he grabbed a nearby stick the same height as him and thick enough to knock anyone out if he had to. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!" He screamed, along with a battle cry he wouldn't have to re-create until going into war a decade and a half later, as he turned a corner to the back garden.

  
Stopping abruptly at the scene before him, Theseus blinked a few times before dropping the stick he was brandishing like a sword.

  
"Newt?" He called, voice trembling slightly.

  
Newt turned round to look at him with tear stained cheeks and a red nose. "He _died_!" He wailed miserably, wiping his nose on his sleeve noisily.

  
He was kneeling in the tall grass with clothes absolutely covered in dirt and what Theseus suspected was tears. In his hands he held a tiny, lifeless ant. Theseus walked over slowly, knowing that Newt didn't like to be disturbed when he was having one of his "moments" (which was very often).

  
"Look Paul died!" He wailed again, showing Theseus the palm of his hands. "I - I was playing with him and - and he _died_!" He hiccupped loudly in his retelling of Paul's untimely death.

  
"It's only a-" But Theseus stopped himself before he upset Newt any further, remembering his mother berating him once because " _Newt's sensitive and needs to be handled with care_ ". "It's ok Newt." He consoled in his best comforting voice. "It's ok."

  
Newt continued to sob erratically, so Theseus took Paul carefully from his hands and made a small hole in the ground with his finger. "Let's give him a funeral." He said, to which Newt nodded enthusiastically and covered Paul over with dirt and the odd tear.

  
They both said a few words to Paul's memory and Theseus picked one of his mother's petunias (he knew she'd have his head for it but this was for Newt) and planted it next to the burial.

  
"Do you want a hug?"

  
"No."

  
Theseus embraced him anyway, revelling in how lovely and comforting a hug could be. Newt sniffled into his shoulder and protested a little bit, but Theseus didn't loosen his grip.

  
"Can we go back inside now?" He asked, voice muffled from the material of Theseus' shirt.

  
"Ok let's go." Theseus released him, only to put a protective arm round his shoulders and walk him back to the house.

  
"Thee! I can walk by myself!" Newt struggled, but not as much as he usually did.

  
Theseus only let himself have a private grin, Newt would initiate his own hug someday.

  
"Newt? Theseus?" Two voices called.

  
They looked at each other, their parents had arrived home and they were covered in dirt with Newt's eyes still rimmed with red.

  
At the sight of them their mother gasped. "Theseus how could you let this happen? _You were meant to be watching him_!" She exclaimed, smoothing down Newt's unruly hair.

  
"But he _was_ watching me." Newt said (lied) simply. "We were playing outside."

  
Their father sighed affectionately. "But you still managed to get yourselves dirty?"

 

They glanced at each other and grinned.


	2. "Well aren't you the cutest little thing!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I got the idea from a random dialogue generator.
> 
> Sorry, this one's a little angsty.

_"Well aren't you the cutest little thing!"_

  
Tina bristled and scowled at the lady who had quite instantly taken a liking to Queenie. She owned the orphanage they were currently standing in and ruled it's floors. This was where they were being moved to next, and it was the dreaded day of the move. Though they didn't look forward to it, it was horribly easy. With only two bags of possessions and a friend of Queenie's to say goodbye to (courtesy to Tina's introverted self). No one would miss them, kids were sent away and moved around faster than you could say 'orphanage'. They'd soon be replaced with another pair of siblings or perhaps an abandoned baby who would enter the system. Tina as felt incredibly sad for the new-borns. About every month there was a solemn knock on the door and the headmistress would come back with a solitary baby swaddled in cloth. If they were lucky, the baby would be left with a short letter, but usually the parent would leave them without a trace. At least, Tina thought, she and Queenie were able to experience life with parents, no matter how short lived that was.

  
The new orphanage seemed nice enough, with some pretty flowers decorating the front step and a brightly coloured rug under their feet. The building was also vastly different in size to the last one. Queenie had craned her neck trying to see how many floors it had and even asked Tina to count the windows for her. Their last orphanages were pretty small, and there were only six rooms so everyone was always sharing with about ten other kids. Though Queenie never minded, as none of the other kids ever realised that she was prodding through their minds, but Tina always felt worried about her sister's talent. So many times she had to make Queenie promise to keep her mouth shut about the numerous secrets she heard. Hopefully this time would be different, and Tina was sure that it would be. But that didn't quell the nervousness they'd both felt stepping into the establishment. This was their third orphanage and hopefully last before they left for Ilvermorny.

  
All hopes she'd had about the lady becoming like an aunt had gone out the window when she said her first words to them. Previously, their last headmistress seemed to absolutely love young children, but everyone else Tina's age were neglected and ignored, left to their own devices. Their first headmistress held a sort of grudge against both of them after learning how their parents died.

  
"We're not _contagious_!" Tina had cried, sniffling loudly and not caring that she embarrassed herself in front of twenty other kids.

  
One of the older boys, Walter, scoffed. "People die of dragon pox all the time because it's so contagious." He rolled his eyes. "At least _my_ parents died from a spell."

  
Queenie stood behind Tina, using her as cover while the thoughts of death and parents circled through everyone's heads.

  
" _My_ dad was murdered."

  
" _I_ don't have a dad, my mum ran off and got mugged!"

  
"That's stupid! Everyone has a dad."

  
"Children that's enough!" Madam Dorothy walked in holding one of the new babies, shunning them all into silence. "Remember the rules? We don't discuss the dead relatives."

  
"Yes Madam." They chorused.

  
"Madam? Have you tested these two for dragon pox? If they're contagious then we could all die!" Walter said, pointing rudely to them.

  
Dorothy turned round and Tina wiped her remaining tears. "Yes, you're quite right Walter." She peered down on them as if they were insignificant creatures.

  
Tina had trembled with fear and anger, as all they could do was stand there with twenty-one pairs of eyes staring unashamedly. She could feel Queenie clutching the back of her dress tightly from the horrible thoughts exploding from her head.

  
Now, Tina gripped Queenie's hand tighter as the lady stepped into her personal space and uncomfortably crouched down so she was face to face with Queenie.

  
"What's your name sweetie?" She asked patronisingly in a high pitched voice and a toothy grin.

  
Queenie, who was chewing on her sleeve, looked up to Tina for guidance. "Her name's Queenie." She answered for her.

  
The lady gave her a look of annoyance. "Why don't you let your sister answer for herself, hmm?" She said, almost challenging.

  
Tina didn't back down from her piercing stare, wondering as to how those eyes could go from being so soft to so sharp in a matter of seconds. "Because I'm her sister, and I'm Porpentina Goldstein." She declared, straightening and hoping she was putting on the image of confidence she'd practiced in the mirror that morning.

  
The lady straightened up and immediately Tina hoped she couldn't see her start to tremble as she towered over her. "You may call me Madame Ethel." She said in an authorotive voice. "How old are you both?"

  
"I'm nine and Queenie is seven." Tina answered again, ignoring the annoyed look she was getting.

  
Madame Ethel's eyes softened once again. "Come here dearie." She said, beckoning to Queenie, who reluctantly let go of Tina's hand to follow her up the stairs.

  
Feeling a bit lost, Tina took Queenie's little bag of belongings and ran after them. Ethel turned round and snatched the bag from her rudely. "Oh no not you." She said coldly. "Five to sevens have rooms on this floor."

  
Tina faltered and Queenie gave her a pleading look. "But we - we always - share..." She squeaked, losing the ability to speak under Ethel's gaze.

  
Ethel showed no sympathy and took Queenie's hand. "You need to let your little sister go, it doesn't do good to be so controlling." She berated.

  
But Queenie needs me. Tina looked down at her (second-hand) shoes. She already had very little control over her life already, and she had no say in which orphanage they could go to or what they could do. The memory of screaming furiously at their last foster mother still fresh in her mind filled her with a justifiable amount of guilt. When she was younger Ma and Pa knew about her obsession with making sure each item of clothing was organised in neat piles and categorised by colour, size and type. Even as young as four, she had to make sure that everything on her plate was neat and tidy and organised and separate. Everything needed to be controlled and maintained, which became hard when she couldn't control her parents' death or her flow of tears.

  
Ethel came back with loud steps and clipping heels. "You're over there, second door on the left." She said to her curtly, pointing towards another set of stairs. "I'm sure you can find your own way through."

  
Tina didn't bother thanking her, picking up her bag and marching over to where she pointed. Her room was small, and bare and dreadfully grey. There was a metal bed with a grey mattress and a thin, equally grey woollen blanket. The wardrobe was spacious enough and the brown colour had dulled over use. The floorboards were scrubbed clean but looked miserable as she stepped over them. The only natural light was from the one, dreary window with no curtains to block it out. There was no one else to break the silence and she was comfortably alone and away from the world. Everything was in its rightful place and nothing was going to change without her say.

  
Tina smiled. It was enough to stop the sob she felt rising in her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this headcanon that Tina's a little bit OCD. I think she doesn't like chaos (which probably made her want to be an auror) and that was obvious when Newt showed up haha. Anyway, I just thought that this little one-shot would be cute.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I always imagined Theseus to be overbearing and protective of Newt because he's such a cinnamon roll. I feel like the only reason they drifted apart was probably just communication (I really hope we get to see more of their relationship in the next films)
> 
> What did you think? Kudos and comments are really appreciated!


End file.
